100 Themes
by kimkaboom
Summary: Part of the 100 Themes Challenge, including GerIta, PruCan, UsUk and possibly, more to come.
1. Introduction: PruCan

**A/N: I seriously just love digging myself a grave by taking on huge challenges and sctuff Dx  
Well, I'm doing the 100 Themes Challenge (or loosely attempting) Hopefully, I'll have time to write and upload, and I'm going to try my hardest to finish. If I do, I'll probably bake myself a cake ^-^  
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**P.S: It's best if you use the 3/4 view. Enjoy! :D **

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1: Introduction

Faint voices could be heard outside as Matthew lazily stretched, yawning in the process. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at a nearby clock. _7:45. I still have a little more than an hour to get to class. _As he got out of bed, he slipped on his slippers and headed over to the fridge, grabbing leftover pancakes and heating them up in the microwave. As his pancakes were in the microwave, Matthew trudged towards the TV, turning it on.

"Now, for today's headlines," the reporter announced. Matthew took his now fluffy, warm pancakes and lathered on an unhealthy amount of maple syrup, indulging in his breakfast.

"And don't forget, today's Daylight Saving's Time, so turn your clock ahead one hour!"

Matthew's eyes widened. "Crap!" He mumbled, mouth full of pancake. Hurriedly, he grabbed his red hoodie and the closest pair of pants, slipped on his shoes, and grabbed his bag. He looked back at the clock. 7:55 (actually, 8:55) and looked longingly at his pancakes. His first class, Canadian History, was 3 hours long, and he knew he wouldn't survive on a near empty stomach. Hastily, he put his pancakes in a styrofoam box and headed out the door.

He whizzed past groups of people, softy muttering a 'sorry' every time. It didn't matter; people, for as long as he could remember, never noticed him. He knew he was shy, but he couldn't help it. Even when he tried to speak up, he was invisible. It was all because of his brother, Alfred. Alfred was hugely popular, good looking, and great with words. Since they were babies, everyone was all over Alfred. Matthew always shadowed him. When he started playing hockey, Alfred played football. When he would draw, Alfred would play music. He always, most of the time unknowingly, outshone him in everything. Matthew just had to deal with it, but he wished he wouldn't.

Still a good distance away from his first class, Matthew ran as fast as he could. Suddenly, without warning, he ran straight into another person, both of them tumbling simultaneously. And as if anything couldn't get worse, Matthew's breakfast was plastered all over the guy he ran into. He freaked.

"Crap! I-I'm s-so sorry," he stuttered, looking away, incredibly embarrassed. He was surprised when the guy started chuckling. He quickly glanced at him and knew who he was.

Gilbert Beilschmidt. Gilbert was seriously the most popular guy on campus, aside from his best friends Antonio Carriendo and Francis Bonnefoy. Matthew hated him because he was so popular, and his ego was the size of Canada, maybe even bigger. Not only that, he was incredibly noticeable because he was albino, albino with snow white hair and piercing crimson eyes to match.

Gilbert, still chuckling, said "It's okay dude, don't sweat it." He propped himself up and extending his hand to Matthew. Matthew reluctantly took it.

"Pancakes, huh? I swear, I haven't had pancakes in a long time." Gilbert stated as he wiped off copious amounts of syrup on his pants. Matthew nervously grabbed his bag off the ground.

"Wait a sec," Gilbert studied the guy in front of him. "You're Matthew Williams, aren't you?" Matthew's eyes widened. _How the hell does he know me?_

"U-uhm," he cleared his throat, "Yeah, I am."

"You're that wickedly awesome artist! Dude, I love your work." Gilbert exclaimed. Matthew never had anyone complimented him in his life, much less acknowledge him.

"T-thanks." He smiled just a bit.

"Yeah, I went to the last student showcase, and your art was like 'BAM!' Probably almost as awesome as me!" Gilbert chuckled slightly. Matthew nodded, and then realized that he really needed to get to class.

"Well, I, uhm, have to get to class."

"Totally understand." He extended his hand, "Gilbert Beilschmidt." Matthew shook it, _I know_. He thought.

"Maybe I'll see you around?" The albino questioned, a friendly smile placed on his face.

"Mhm, yeah. S-see you around." Matthew nearly whispered, running to his next class. Perhaps Gilbert wasn't that bad.

Perhaps.


	2. Complicated: GerIta

**A/N: Yay, chapter 2! (Or theme 2...w/e) Hope you enjoy!**

**Scheisse: shit (in German)**

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2: Complicated

"Ludwig! Ludwig, say something!" The frantic Italian cried, violently shaking his German friend. Ludwig just stood there, expressionless. But in his mind, a complete meltdown was occurring.

_WHY DO I FEEL LIKE MY HEART'S ABOUT TO BURST OUT OF MY CHEST? I'M SWEATING I HATE SWEATING. WAIT AM I BLUSHING? I HATE BLUSHING MORE THAN I HATE SWEATING! __SCHEISSE __SCHEISSE!_

"Uhhhh" was all the German could managed to utter before doing something completely unlike him, mirroring the Italian.

He ran. No, he bolted out of the restaurant at lightning speed, tripping over various cracks and steps, not looking back. _Mein gott, how can you be so thick? You just proposed...TO FELICIANO. _His breath became heavy, thick as smoke. His legs buckled under pressure and he fell to the ground, embracing himself. Shutting his eyes, he sighed, and withdrew a long, labored breath. He was miles away from Feliciano, so it was safe to rest, just for a little bit. He didn't even want to imagine what Feliciano thought. He potentially just ruined his only good friendship because he couldn't differentiate romantic and friendly feelings. He was screwed.

The sun was setting on the horizon when Ludwig finally made it back to his house. He took a long walk back, contemplating on what he should do next. Problem was, he had no idea what to do. The only thing he planned ahead was drinking some beer as soon as he got home.

"Oy, West! Busy day or somethin'?" Gilbert called from across the house as Ludwig entered. Ludwig didn't answer and went straight to the fridge, pulling out a Heineken. He settled himself down on the couch and sighed, taking a huge gulp of beer with him. Gilbert joined his brother, beer in hand and towel in the other to dry his hair.

"So...how'd that dat- lunch with Feli go?" Gilbert asked curiously. He wasn't going to admit that he saw the whole thing; he wanted to torture his bruder just a bit.

"Don't wanna talk about it," Mumbled Ludwig, taking even bigger gulps of his beer this time.

"By the looks of it, horrible. You're already done with your beer!" Gilbert joked, slapping his bruder's back. Ludwig wasn't amuse and rubbed his eyes.

"It was really that bad?" Gilbert asked, somewhat concerned. The look on Ludwig's face read complete dread.

"Like I said, I _don't _want to talk about it." Ludwig got up, and slammed his empty beer on the end table. He went to his room and locked the door, not wanting to see anyone, especially Feliciano. There was a rational, perfect explanation for all of this. _I over analyzed his actions and perceived them to be...more than they are. He's just really friendly; he's Italian. I just need to adapt to it and set boundaries. That's it._ He sighed, turning off his light and shutting his eyes. It was nights like this, when his brain was wired from thinking too much, that he couldn't sleep. Eventually, he found sleep, a hollow, empty sleep.

To his relief, Ludwig woke up without Feliciano by his side. He sighed, trying to think of his next plan of action. As he got up and entered the kitchen, he noticed Feliciano, sound asleep on the couch. His brain went into panic mode. _What- why is he here? He's suppos-_

"Ve~ Good morning, Ludwig!" Feliciano chirped. Ludwig remained stoic, but managed to gulp.

"G-good morning."

"I was going to sleep in your room, but you locked your door, and I'm not really good at picking locks."

Ludwig was beyond confused. He couldn't even comprehend why Feliciano was engaging in casual conversation, not even remotely recalling the events yesterday.

"Feliciano," Ludwig managed to say, "I think...we need to talk." Ludwig approached Feliciano, seating himself next to him, but not too close.

"What do...we need to talk about?" Feliciano looked hurt, his voice shaking a bit. Ludwig sighed,

"I've...I've tried, for months, to understand why you..act the way you do, and I still don't know." He rubbed the back of his neck, "It's...I guess I'm not used to it, still."

Feliciano's eyes soon watered up, his lip quivering, "A-are...are you leaving me?"

Ludwig's eyes widened, "No, that- no!" He raised his voice, further upsetting the Italian. He sighed, "I'm sorry, but I'm not leaving you. I'm just...I..." He paused, trying to think of the perfect, once sentence to say. "I can't have you act the way you do. The hugs, kisses, even sleeping in the same bed as me. You should...stop, before you further complicate our...friendship." That stung. He didn't even know what he and Feliciano were anymore. To Feliciano, _we're friends_ Ludwig thought. _But...to me..._

"O-okay." Feliciano uttered, trying not to cry, "So, you're not leaving me?"

Ludwig slightly smiled, "I made a pinky promise, remember? And I'm not breaking it." Feliciano smiled, and hugged his friend for one last time. Ludwig rested his head on the Italian's shoulder, actually not wanting to let go. He immediately regretted what he said, but it was too late to take back his words. When they parted, Ludwig shivered, missing the warm embrace.

Hopefully, things would be more certain; but, then again, nothing in life is certain.

Not even pinky promises.


	3. Death: PruCan

**A/N: Alright, since I've been sadly neglected this fic due to stupid SCHOOL AND AP CLASSES UGH, I'm skipping around a bit with the themes because I can't come up with anything good for themes 3-8 /dies. ****SO, I'll probably be jumping around with the themes (hope you don't mind!) **

**THIS. FIC. Ugh, I seriously almost cried from writing this. I really hope you don't die from depression (or my inability to write something longer than 1,000 words at a time)**

**Reviews and comments are appreciated, as always, and enjoy ^-^**

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9: Death

Most people visited their deceased loved ones yearly, maybe even monthly, except for Matthew Williams. Everyday, whether it was raining, blazing hot, or snowing, Matthew would trek from his house to Evergreen Cemetery. And everyday, he would bring the most vivid flowers he could and place them on his grave. He never, ever forgot to go. It didn't matter if he was exhausted, sleep deprived, or anything. No excuses. He would always walk flowers in hand.

It was almost 4 o'clock, the usual time Matthew left for the cemetery. Today was different those. 3 years. It had been exactly 3 years since it happened. Like any other day, it was an internal battle just to get out of bed. It had been one of those nights, insomnia swept in and tears stained another pillow. With sunken eyes, Matthew headed out the door when his cell phone rang. He checked the caller id. _Gil._

"H-hello?" Matthew managed to say, desperately holding the tears in.

"Heyyyy, Mattie! You busy today?" His best friend Gilbert exclaimed on the other end. Matthew hated lying, especially to Gilbert. He was never good at it, but yet again, he had to.

"Uhm, well, kinda." He could hear his friend pout through the receiver. Gilbert sighed,

"Alright, well what about tomorrow?"

"M-maybe. We'll see." Matthew bit his lip. It was already 4:10. He had to get going.

"Well, I have a lot of work to do. I'll call you later tonight." With that, he hung up. He cursed at himself. Many times, he tried to tell Gilbert, but he could never bring himself to. He just… wouldn't understand, even if they were best friends. He just had to keep it a secret. He had to.

Gilbert started noticing a weird trend regarding his best friend for a while now. Usually, he would call Matt at around 4ish, but for whatever strange reason, most of the time, he was busy. Sometimes it was "a late doctor's appointment." Another was "a paper I have to finish." Either way, Gilbert could sense when his friend was lying. He probably had a girlfriend he was seeing (as much as he would hate to see that. Gilbert started growing much deeper feelings for his friend recently) Maybe he was just swamped with school work. Whatever it was, Gilbert had to know. He was just too curious for his own good.

It was already 5 o'clock when the albino phoned his friend. Unfortunately, it went straight to voicemail.

"Birdie, it's Gil. So, my bruder unawesomely decided to claim the house for himself and Feli tonight, so is it okay if I crash at your place? I knew you'd be okay with it! Anyway, see you soon." Gilbert shut his phone, and headed for Matthew's.

When Gilbert arrived, he noticed that Matthew still wasn't home. That wasn't a problem. Gilbert expertly picked the lock of his front door and helped himself inside. He rushed to the fridge, in hope for devouring some of Matthew's pancakes when he mentally slapped himself.

_Gil! Your awesome self can wait for pancakes. Remember, you came here to find evidence…or something like that._

"Now, where to start?" Gilbert asked himself, scratching his chin. _Of course! His bedroom. _Gilbert quickly scanned Matt's room in search for anything peculiar. But, it was the same as it always was: red and white sheets, hockey posters, a desk and laptop. Gilbert sighed, falling onto the bed. "This is gonna be harder than I thought." That's when something caught the corner of his eye. Matthew's night stand drawer was slightly open, part of a newspaper sticking out.

Gilbert quirked his eyebrow, and opened the drawer, pulling the newspaper out. The date at the top of the page read October 17th, 2007. _Why does he have a 3 year old newspaper?_ When Gilbert read the headline, his heart sunk.

'Local football star dies in tragic accident'

The picture contained a completely totaled car, glass exploding everywhere. He gulped, and started reading the article.

'17 year old quarterback Alfred Jones and half brother Matthew Williams were driving home from a celebratory party when Matthew lost control of the car and headed right into another vehicle. Jones and the other driver died instantly, but the passengers in the other car and Williams survived with minor injuries.'

"Shit." Gilbert mumbled to himself.

'A funeral and memorial service will be held on Saturday at Evergreen Cemetery.'

Gilbert sighed, rubbing his forehead. This was _not_ what he was expecting at all. _How could he have hid this?_ Gilbert honestly hated confrontations, but he had to talk to Matthew about this. Right as he thought this, the front door started turning and Gilbert hastily shoved the newspaper into the drawer.

"Nice to see you made yourself at home!" Matthew called. Gilbert slowly entered the kitchen, a solemn look on his face. Matthew, confused by Gilbert's distressing presence, asked, "What? Something wrong?"

"Why didn't you tell me you had a brother?"

Matthew's eyes widened, and he quickly looked away from the albino, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do." Gilbert headed towards his friend. Matthew walked in the opposite direction, desperately trying to keep the sudden tears from plunging.

"You should go." He choked. He never told Gilbert to leave, ever.

"Matt, wai-"

"Gilbert, leave. Please."

There was no stopping the tears now as Matthew sobbed, barely holding himself up on the kitchen counter. Gilbert rushed to him, hugging him tighter than he ever hugged him, fearing that if he let go, Matthew would disappear. Matthew didn't resist, and instead, just cried into his friend's shoulder.

"H-he was my brother!" He sobbed, clutching tighter onto the albino, "A-and I killed him!"

Gilbert couldn't help it either; tears were falling and all he could do was hold onto his friend. He didn't have to say anything comforting or noble; he just had to hold onto him.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was only a minute, the two decided to sit on the couch, Gilbert holding Matthew's hand tight.

"You don't…have to talk about it."

Matthew shook his head, "I've hid this from you, from everyone for too long. I…I think I'm ready." He exhaled, gripping Gilbert's hand.

"Al…Alfred was my younger brother. Technically, half brother. We were only a year apart." He paused, and gulped, "Alfred was quarterback and probably the most popular guy in school. He was just…so friendly, and lively. Everyone wanted to either be Alfred or be with him. He always had to out-do me in everything, and he succeeded." Matthew's eyes started watering up, but he contained himself.

"It was a Tuesday night, and Alfred just won the playoff game. It was probably the best moment of his life. He called me at around one in the morning, wasted. He was at an after party and he needed a ride home. And I was…so mad. I was furious with him. He was careless and reckless and I couldn't help it. When we were driving home, I yelled at him and called him out for everything he did."

"_You don't care about anyone but yourself! It's always about you! And when I do things for you, you don't even thank me! I've been living in your shadow for years, always look after you and up to you, and you never notice me. Why, Alfred? Why?"_

Matthew shut his eyes, a few tears streaming down his cheeks, "I wasn't paying attention, and I drove right into another car. Alfred died right then, and the other driver died later that night at the hospital." Matthew gasped, and bitterly laughed, "He was the one who's drunk and I lost control, sober. Have you heard of anything more fucked up in your life?"

Gilbert looked at his friend, eyes swollen from crying so much. He didn't know what to say; his throat arid from nervousness. Matthew continued,

"Everyday, I walk to that cemetery and give him the most lively flowers I can. I think 'maybe he'd like these; they're almost as bright as him' I-I never tried telling anyone because I didn't think they'd understand. I was always afraid of telling you because…I didn't want you to think I was a freak." Matthew bit his lip, a few more tears falling this time. Instinctively, Gilbert wiped them away with the sleeve of his hoodie,

"Birdie, I'm so sorry." He paused, sharply inhaling, "I can't say that I understand, but I'm always here for you." Matthew smiled just a bit, and fell into Gilbert's arms once more.

"Thank you, Gil. For everything." Without any warning, Matthew placed a quick, quivering kiss on his friend's cheek, causing Gilbert to seriously blush. Matthew, realizing what he just did, flushed in embarrassment.

"I'm so so sorry. That w-was weir-"

Gilbert cut off the babbling Canadian with a chaste kiss, whispering,

"Not weird at all, Birdie. Not weird at all."

Slowly, Matthew started the long road to recovery, with Gilbert by his side. It was painful and really hard at times, but he managed to forgive himself. There, holding his hand tight, the couple visited Alfred, placed a vivid bouquet of flowers on his grave.

"Miss ya, Al." Matthew whispered, holding onto Gilbert. Gilbert placed a warm kiss on his forehead, murmuring,

"I bet he misses you too, Birdie."


End file.
